


Stability

by evilRevan



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, language learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilRevan/pseuds/evilRevan
Summary: The briefest of panic fled him when his spasm subsided. “I am.. I am alright,” Constantine tried his hardest to wave off Catasach but the man wouldn’t relent.“Feumaidh tu fois.” Just as his aura, Catasach’s words were graceful and calming on Constantine’s ears. “You need to rest,” Catasach continued, possibly clarifying his previous statement spoken in his native tongue.





	Stability

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains mid-game spoilers! Read with caution!

Catasach applied the strongly scented balm onto a small patch of infected skin on the prince’s wrist, his fingers meticulously spreading the thickened herbal paste evenly across the horrifyingly pallid, inflamed skin. Constantine let out a hiss through his clenched teeth as the paste began to tingle. At first, it seemed to burn a little, adding to the feverish hell he experienced every day thanks to the malichor practically burning him from the inside out. The muscles in his wrist began to loosen up as a faint chill seeped practically down into his very bone. He could only describe it as submerging himself in a cool lake or jumping into a pile of fresh snow.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Constantine attempted to inspect the smooth brown paste smeared across his near ghostly skin tone. Catching him, Catasach quickly grasped his wrist and placed it firmly against the armrest, preventing the prince from even thinking about raising the arm up before he even finished.

Piercing golden eyes stared at him from under a headdress fashioned from some native creature’s skull and feathers, “_Fuireach fhathast._” While he couldn’t understand what Catasach said to him, his actions were clear as a sunny sky.

Still, he had to ask, “And what does that mean, Catasach?” The older man leveled him a knowingly look before translating. “It means remain still.” With that, he tapped the prince’s wrist briefly. Attempting to enforce the idea of patience in the young blonde. Once satisfied Constantine wouldn't bolt up from his chair, the healer turned and walked into a side room reappearing quickly with a small clay pot filled with some kind of paste inside.

Catasach set it aside before walking back towards him to double-checking the test site. Constantine picked up the scent of thyme and cinnamon on his hands as they ran along his arm.

“No pain?”

“It feels.. numb? Cold. Like your hands when you first touched me.”

“_Mu dheireadh, rudeigin gus am pian a lughdachadh._”

Constantine saw a faint glimmer shifting beneath his bright honey-colored eyes. “How would I-” A tightness spread throughout his chest, blinding pain rippling through him as he caved inwards on himself instinctually trying to curl up into a ball. Large hands quickly pressed themselves against his chest in an instant, a soothing blissful chill pierced through his thick layer of clothing in a matter of seconds.

“_Breathaich,_” Catasach instructed. Constantine didn’t need a translation._ He knew_. Slowly and cautiously he began to fill his lungs with air. He held his breath for just a moment before releasing the air through his nose. The tension brewing just under the skin melted away with the help of Catasach’s guidance and touch.

The briefest of panic fled him when his spasm subsided. “I am.. I am alright,” Constantine tried his hardest to wave off Catasach but the man wouldn’t relent.

“_Feumaidh tu fois._” Just as his aura, Catasach’s words were graceful and calming on Constantine’s ears. “You need to rest,” Catasach continued, possibly elaborating on his previous statement spoken in his native tongue.

A slight chuckle slipped through Constantine’s pale cracked lips. “And how would I tell you I didn’t require rest?”

For a brief second Constantine could pick up on something about youths spoken under his breath. “_Chan eil mi airson èisteachd ri adhbharr,_” Catasach replied with mild annoyance. Finding him exhausting as his gravely ill patient began to regain some of his energy under his watchful eye. “Please tell me what that means really.”

“It means,” A deep prolonged sigh drifted in the silence, “I don’t want to listen to reason.”

Despite the pain, Constantine couldn’t help but laugh, his fragile frame shaking against Catasach’s hand still pressed to his chest. “Oh that one I won’t have trouble _remembering._”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: (all done in Scottish Gaelic)
> 
> Mu dheireadh, rudeigin gus am pian a lughdachadh. - Finally, something to ease the pain.  
Breathaich - breathe  
Feumaidh tu fois - you need rest  
Chan eil mi airson èisteachd ri adhbhar - I don't want to listen to reason


End file.
